


Collaborate

by Anonymous



Series: Eyesore [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dominant Shikamaru, F/M, Gags, Incest Play, M/M, Multi, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Submissive Sakura, Submissive sasuke, Threesome - F/M/M, Verbal Humiliation, Weapons Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21639721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: They call him Tōrikage - the shadow of the streets - but they have known him longer than he has had that name and he is happy to repay their friendship in kind.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Nara Shikamaru, Haruno Sakura/Nara Shikamaru/Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Nara Shikamaru/Uchiha Sasuke
Series: Eyesore [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559842
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41
Collections: Anonymous





	Collaborate

The bar is dark and and the air is thick, but the low, flickering lights on the wall and the music from the band in the corner provide an atmosphere well suited to any patron looking for a good time or, perhaps darker, for any patron looking to exchange secrets.

It is not a tiny place, but the amount of bodies make it feel as if it is. Patrons are squished up along the bar, clamoring for the bartender’s attention; couples and singles alike are on the dance floor, shimmying their bodies in time to the music, looking to get lost for the night. Along the back wall are several tables where couples are seated, exchanging drinks and exchanging words before disappearing together.

At the table in the corner, with a clear view of the door, sit two people, and a man sidles up to them, pulling a third unused chair and taking a seat.

“Tōrikage-sama,” Sakura greets, inclining her head. Sasuke, ever her shadow, follows suit.

“Me no futago,” he replies, bowing in turn. “Already drinking, or can I get you something?”

“A drink would not be remiss, Tōrikage-sama,” Sakura says, looking up at him through her eyelashes. Sasuke downs the remainder of his own sake and agrees.

The man nods. “And while we’re here, let us drop the titles.”

“Of course,” says Sasuke. “What name are you going by these days, Tōrikage-sama?”

“It’s Shōichi,” he answers. “And you are?”

“This is Tsubaki,” answers Sasuke, gesturing to Sakura. “I am Itsuki.”

He nods once, quickly, to show his understanding.

“Tsubaki-san, Itsuki-san, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“So, Shōichi-san,” Sakura begins when he returns with a tall bottle for the three of them and begins pouring. She puts her hand under her chin and looks him directly in the eyes. “I’m surprised the Tōrikage himself could come out and see little old us.”

Shōichi’s eyes flash, but he laughs all the same. “Surprised? You are the  yūmeina futago after all.”

“Hn.”

Sakura rolls her eyes. “Stop that, nii-san.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes right back. “What can we do for you, Sh ōichi-san?”

Shōichi pauses, takes a sip of his sake.

“You’ve heard of that...business in Yugakure.”

“Naturally,” says Sakura.

“Troublesome,” says Shōichi, eyes flickering up toward the ceiling. “Troublesome indeed.”

“Hn,” agrees Sasuke. “That little cultist making things difficult for you, I presume?”

“He is...fucking with my operations, yes,” Shōichi says, swirling his drink around. His left hand taps a beat on the table. Around them, the music plays, but the three of them only have ears for each other.

“He’s meant to be immortal, you know,” Sasuke murmurs.

Sakura’s eyes flash.

“We’ll do it.”

“Of course you’ll do it, Tsubaki-san.”

“Nii-san…” Sasuke starts. “Don’t get hasty.”

“Don’t get cowardly,” she shoots back. “We’ll do it, Shōichi-san, when do you need it done by?”

Sasuke grunts again. “I’m not getting hasty,” he retaliates before Shōichi can answer them. “But I’m wondering what he’s not telling us. There’s more to this than he’s letting on, don’t you think, nii-san?”

Shōichi rolls his eyes, mutters  _ troublesome _ under his breath, and knits his fingers together.

“The Akatsuki are...interested in this Hidan, so to speak. To recruit or kill, I’m not sure. But you can plan to possibly take one of them down as well.”

“Or two, they travel in partnerships,” Sakura mutters.

“Much like yourselves.”

“Much like us, yes. So you want us to take down one person, but possibly three people?” Sakura asks, arching an eyebrow. Sasuke’s eyebrows go up as well, and he downs his glass.

“Half now, half with proof of the kill, and an added bonus for any Akatsuki in the way. Any leftover Yugakure missing-nin or whomever else may get in your way, I take no responsibility for. More than eyes, you hear me, Itsuki-san? I need actual proof of death.”

Sasuke’s own eyes flash red at that, but he nods.

“And the deadline?”

“The 14th,” Shōichi replies evenly, taking out a scroll and passing it over the table. “And the sum.”

“Mmm,” Sakura says, finishing her drink. “Why don’t we go somewhere more private and we can make sure all of the money is there?”

Shōichi raises his eyebrows, finishing his drink as well. “I think that sounds like a fine idea. And I must say, you are both looking quite striking tonight.”

“We are, hm?” Sakura flirts, reaching into her pouch to leave money on the table. Shōichi is not exaggerating, she has outdone herself tonight. Gone are her usual gi, hakama, and haori; she stands at the table not out of place at all in a tight red qipao dress, hair twisted up on top of her head and her eyes lined just like Sasuke’s. Her lips are red and gleaming in the flickering light of the bar. Shōichi is sure she had at least seven weapons hidden on her person, and she is as dangerous as she is attractive. He has seen the way the other patrons of the bar stare at her, not realizing that that body is a weapon.

Sasuke has swapped his usual kimono for a navy yukata with intricate embroidery around the hems, tied low at the waist, falling open to reveal a toned chest. His hair is down and his long bangs sweep into his eyes, covering the left one when he doesn’t care to tuck them behind his ear. He has done nothing to conceal the short blade he wears at his hip, but just like Sakura, Shōichi knows there is more than meets the eye. This is a shinobi village, a weapon or two is acceptable, but if Shōichi were a betting man, he’d say Sasuke had another five on him at least.

Shōichi himself stands there with his hair down as well, the studded earrings of his clan long gone, swapped out for some dangly things he had picked up in Iwa, silver gleaming through his nose and tongue, and, as Sasuke and Sakura know, through his dick and nipples, hidden under his unassuming shirt, pants, and haori. The three make quite a trio, but to any unassuming outsider, they are nothing more than three beautiful friends having a night on the town.

“You are,” Shōichi breathes, following the two of them out of the bar and up to the dingy inn upstairs.

The place is a bit of a dump, but staying in luxury is a hindrance none of them care to indulge in, despite money not being an object. A seedy place draws seedy characters, and your own suspicion raises none.

The door draws shut behind them with a click, Sasuke’s hands flickering quickly through the familiar signs to drown out any perverts who may be listening at their door, hoping to get an easy soundtrack to beat off to.

Sakura motions for Sasuke to help her with the zip of her dress, turns around when she has it down over her shoulders.

“So, Shikamaru,” she starts, “why don’t you show us why you really came all the way here yourself, hm?”

Shikamaru sighs and threads his fingers into the hair at the back of Sasuke’s neck, pulling him away from Sakura’s back where his fingers are drawing patterns that could be meaningless or could be a secret code only they know. It’s always been that way with them, since they came back from the dead with their eyes all rearranged and their old humanity locked firmly away. It’s what Shikamaru likes about them, their honesty about that. He’s the same way now. He likes to flatter himself to think that is why they allowed him into their bed in the first place. Complementary monsters. 

“You assume I couldn’t send someone else to do this in my place? That you’re so special?”

Sasuke licks his lips and Shikamaru tilts his head back, looking into his red eyes. “We are special.” 

Shikamaru takes Sasuke’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, sucking it into his mouth hard enough to swell. “But I can’t tell you that, can I? Then your heads would get big.” 

Shikamaru looks over to see Sakura staring intently at them both, halfway out of her panties with her breasts on full display. Her nipples are dark and hard in the cool air of the room, sensitive enough for Shikamaru to make her scream when he gets his mouth on them or pinches them hard between the tips of his fingers. He can feel Sasuke’s eyes following his own, a mixture of arousal and jealousy evident in the tightness of his breathing.

He is trying to make up his mind about who to have first when Sakura steps out of her panties and pushes a hand between her legs. He can smell her wetness already but is determined not to let her get the better of him. He is here to pleasure the Twins of the Eye, yes, but Shikamaru knows better than anyone else living that pleasure for them is not a straight line. Giving Sakura what she wants requires keeping it from her first. 

Shadows shoot from Shikamaru’s heels across the wooden floor and around Sakura’s wrists, yanking them away from her body and making her grunt in frustration. 

“Stop that,” Shikamaru says. 

“Stop what?”

He pulls her hands above her head, anchoring them by a cord of shadow to the ceiling. “Being a brat.”

More shadows crawl around her feet and spread her legs apart by the ankles, leaving her open to the air and her scent even stronger than before. Shikamaru can see her wetness now, too, gathered in her pubic hair and spread near her pussy on the insides of her thighs.

“You must have been thinking about this all day. From the way that you’re dripping.” 

Sakura opens her mouth to speak, but Shikamaru sends one last shadow to cover her mouth, caressing inside like the fingers of a hand. He lets them rub on her tongue before covering her lips entirely, sealing her voice inside. 

“It’s too bad,” he says, “I guess you’ll have to sit there and drip a bit longer.”

Sasuke has been so patient, waiting inert at the end of Shikamaru’s hand, not even watching as Shikamaru restrained his companion. Instead, his eyes are closed and his breathing incredibly measured. Turning him so that his back is to Shikamaru’s chest, Shikamaru begins to touch him with the same measured slowness. 

“You’re such a beautiful thing, Sasuke-kun,” Shikamaru says as a hand quests down his chest and over the front of his hips, squeezing experimentally. “I’m never really sure what I’m going to find under here when I undress you.” 

“Afraid, Shikamaru?” 

Shikamaru tuts and pinches a nipple. “Tch, you know the Tōrikage isn’t afraid of anything.” 

“Anything but losing.” 

“Determined to be just as rude as your sister, I see.” 

“It’s not as though you’re doing much about it.” 

Shikamaru rolls his eyes and takes the finely embroidered hems at the collar of Sasuke’s yukata in his fists. He pulls downward and out hard enough that he can hear a stitch pop, although there are no apparent tears. Finding that hidden imperfection might dog him for days, or he might not give it any thought at all. Shikamaru knows that Sasuke has an ambivalent relationship to his image. That much is apparent in his self-presentation. The ambiguity and androgyny of it; the way he skirts the line between strange and downright scandalous. Shikamaru has seen him wear scraps and call them  hōmongi. Sasuke’s mysterious charm is in the way he will make Shikamaru believe it.

“You’ll have to work a bit harder than that, I’m afraid,” Shikamaru says then, a knee connecting with Sasuke’s back and a soft grunt permeating the staleness of the room when he falls to his knees. “My, my, twins. Both of you so troublesome. That come from Mommy or Daddy’s side of the family?”

Sasuke lets out a small noise, but he doesn’t say anything as Shikamaru knees him again, pressing him forward until his forehead touches the sticky floor. The sound that left his mouth may have been anger, or indignation, but it may have been pleasure. With the twins, a conflation of the three is often the case.

The air outside is humid and the temperature in the room rises; the floor and the walls sweat for all that the bodies inside of it do. Sasuke’s breathing is even and controlled, and he makes no protest at the position he finds himself in. This is not always the case – Shikamaru never knows what he’s going to get – he will sometimes not go down without a fight, snarling insults and eyes spinning red as he goes. Other times, he is soft and pliant and malleable, and his mind has gone far out of this room. He is exactly where he wants to be.

Shikamaru wouldn’t have thought it possible, once, that this proud, snobby boy from his Academy class would melt under the first thumb to flick itself in his direction, but he wouldn’t have thought it possible that his village would send his father to die, either.

“Now, why don’t you stay there while I deal with your sister? Nice and comfortable, huh?”

The only sound in the room is his even breathing, Sakura’s muffled whines as she tugs on her bonds, the scuff of Shikamaru’s sandal as he drags it across the floor to kick Sasuke in the ribs.

“You answer me when I talk to you, boy.”

And as he knows that allowing Sakura pleasure comes from denying her of it first, he knows that giving Sasuke what he needs involves taking everything away, to humiliate him and allow his mind to exist outside of the confines of his skull. He’ll make him piss his pants later, after he gets Sakura so wet and begging for it.

“Yes, T ōrikage-sama,” Sasuke mumbles, and he is under. He will be fine for a while.

Now, Shikamaru rounds on the kunoichi in the room. What an interesting creature she is, this Sakura (never his Sakura, not even strung up like this. That much was clear).

He was sure that she had shed her family name by now as he had shed his, that had been all but made apparent when he first came eye to eye with the spinning red and black of her sharingan. Vaguely, he wondered whose it had been at first, but it didn’t matter; it sat in her socket like a jewel set into a crown; belonging and regal.

Her head doesn’t loll to the side like her brother’s would had he been the one strung up and splayed out, rather she fixes him with a look nearly intent on killing. And it could, if she wanted it to, the green of her right eye made all the much brighter by the contrast of its sibling beside it.

“Ah, Sakura,” he says, chuckling slightly as he does. “Always so angry.”

He is sure that she holds other emotions, she would have to, to keep that brother of hers in check. But it is not always Sakura held aloft by Shikamaru’s chains, other times he finds himself fucked out and screaming, her fist in his ass while Sasuke watches like a good boy from the sidelines. Her anger is softer then, all of its edges in the curl of her knuckles as she moves her fingers in and out of his tender hole; today, it is all over, like an electrical current settling over her skin, and she jerks this way and that. But it is ever-present in his presence. Maybe that’s why she keeps him around. He casts a look in her direction, and in the soft candlelight, he sees the glisten of her pussy juice softly trailing down her thigh.

She tries to say something again, the shadow in her mouth choking and stifling her words.

“What’s that?” he asks, pleasantly, like he is asking her to repeat what’s for dinner. The thought of Sakura the housewife, Sakura cooking for him, is so comical that he has to stifle a laugh. “I can’t quite hear you around all of...that.” He gestures vaguely, and behind him, beneath him, he thinks he hears Sasuke let out a breathy laugh.

He kicks him again; “you be quiet, boy.”

“Yes, ‘kage-sama,” he mumbles. He is malleable clay like this, ready to be prodded and shaped however Shikamaru might wish. The transformation back to the glazed piece that will walk out of this hotel room is always a fascination to watch. A killing machine, taken apart but able to put itself back together on a moment’s notice. Who had made him this way?

Shikamaru wonders this, sometimes, when he fucks the twins. It’s probably safer that he doesn’t know, but it is a curious thing. Sakura makes a noise again, a ripping in her throat.

He stalks closer, nosing at a nipple before reaching out to taste it with his tongue. He rubs his cheek across the swell of her breast, across her naked form. He is the only clothed one in the room, but when he is in charge, he doesn’t undress himself. She will take care of that, or her brother will. Or perhaps both. They  _ were _ so exquisite when they danced in tandem.

He places his teeth around her areola gently, then bites hard enough to break skin, and he hears her yelp; the movement in her throat vibrates across his forehead.

“So delicious, Sakura-kun,” he mumbles, sucking gently. “So unlike anything I have ever known. Your flavor only mirrors one other.” He flicks his head over his shoulder to look at Sasuke, ass still in the air, forehead still flush with the ground, right where Shikamaru had left him, had placed him. He won’t move unless he’s ordered to. Sakura, however…

“If I take out that gag will you be a good girl?” he asks, locking his gaze with hers. Her eyes still look angry, scrunched up and shiny in the candlelight. The black liner around them makes them look larger than life and he’d almost believe she was a wide-eyed innocent if he didn’t know that she could kill him six different ways from Sunday while tied up like this. She holds his gaze, lifting her chin in defiance.

“Ah, no? Shame, I would love to hear you scream.”

She grunts back at him and he returns to her tits, thumbing at the one he had neglected earlier, pinching experimentally.

“You like that?” he asks conversationally, like he’s asking her how the weather is. “Yeah…” he continues, letting his hand drift over her hard stomach and to her pussy, sliding a finger between the folds before holding it up and staring it at, marveling at how her pussy juice reflects in the half-darkness. “Yeah, guess you do, huh?” He chuckles, and she strains harder at the bonds. She’s a joy to edge.

He sucks on her tits for a little longer before sliding his fingers back between her pussy, sliding them around and pressing at her hole. A flick of his heels and the shadows are tightened as one is added, a collar around her neck. Not enough to choke, but just enough for a presence to be felt, for his hands to be around her, squeezing, as he works his fingers elsewhere. He spreads her legs gently before nipping at her labia and pushing her apart. He’s always thought her clit would look so lovely with a bar through it, but she has never taken to piercings the way he has. She’d do it if Sasuke asked, but Shikamaru is not so stupid as to believe he even nears the plane that her and her brother exist in.

“Finally going to taste you, you teasing slut,” he mutters before leaning in to swipe up her pussy with his tongue. Wet folds around her opening up to the hood of her clit, and the flavor is as exquisite as it always is; it’s pussy cum leaking but there is something about it that is uniquely  _ Sakura _ and he revels in being able to taste the flavor. “Don’t even need to finger you, do I? Fucking hole’s already gaping for me.”

He is careful in his dirty talk with her; a verbal sparring they both enjoy, particularly when she is the one calling all of the shots. He knows she has limits though, phrases he won’t say, words he won’t touch. No matter – simply talking about her pussy ready for him to fuck has his dick straining against his underthings, tenting his pants. To watch her writhe while he brings her pleasure could get him to release, if he allowed it.

He takes a deep breath before sliding two fingers up her hole while he licks back at her clit, tongue moving as if he’s been told to clean the floor with nothing but it. She bucks her hips toward him, greedily taking in his fingers, and if he were a man with lesser reflexes then he would nearly get clocked in the face by her fucking vagina. He deftly avoids her moving pelvis though, slipping in a third finger in as she does so, and curling them just so when he feels the rough patch that presses against her clit from the inside.

She squirms and yelps again and he almost considers removing the gag, if only to hear the elegantly pornographic phrases that she would weave together. But, he considers, curling and moving his fingers in that same motion and over and over, it’s much more fun to watch her struggle. And ultimately, he knows she is enjoying it, too. She may struggle, but the controlled restraint is her favorite game.

She jerks and her thigh muscles twitch uncontrollably the more his tongue plays with her. He can tell by the way she shakes that she’s close, nevermind the way that her chakra has unconsciously started gathering in her pussy. He pulls out as quickly as he’d entered, backing away and murmuring, “don’t you dare.”

She stops the movement of her hips but she’s still breathing heavily under that gag, sharp bits of air sucked up her nose as she gathers herself. He yearns to tighten the bit of shadow surrounding her neck but then she actually might not be able to hold herself back from spilling over the edge. And as he longs to punish her, they both know that this isn’t the kind of night for that. That elaborate dance takes days of planning, an arranged meetup, and Sasuke’s knowledge, if not his involvement. It’s not the type of play for a surprise meeting. Or at least, a surprise on their end. He of course, had planned this. Rarely is anything not planned, in his life.

She’s finally calmed herself down as she lets her head tilt forward a bit, but her pussy is still leaking and so he is satisfied. Let her get horny watching this next bit, work herself up a bit more. He levels her a stare before backing up until he is next to Sasuke’s form, gently placing a hand on the back of his neck. Shikamaru isn’t sure if his lack of movement is more a testament to his shinobi training or to his pliancy as a submissive, but he doesn’t question it. Either one will do him good in this position.

“Sasuke,” he whispers, “undress me.”

“May I stand, Tōrikage-sama?” he asks, and Shikamaru feels his dick twitch in his pants. He nods, and feels Sasuke’s hands on his shoulders immediately, removing his haori and folding it before placing it to the side. His shirt is pulled over his head and then Sasuke’s long, thin fingers are finding their way under his waistline to pull down his pants. The fucked part is that if Shikamaru were to turn around, he knows that he would find Sasuke’s gaze locked on his sister’s pseudo-crucified form. He can tell by the way that her neck has unbent slightly and her eyes have raised that she meets his eyes, and he shudders a bit. He has long stopped trying to understand the two of them. Even when Shikamaru is so clearly the one in charge, Sasuke asks Sakura before making a move, even if he isn’t doing it in so many words.

When Sasuke has rid him of his clothes, he instructs the boy to kneel back down and brings his face to bury itself in his thigh. His breath is hot where it touches over Shikamaru’s groin.

“Well?” he begins. He intends to say  _ get me hard _ before realizing that he already is, Sakura strung up right in front of him has him nearly straining, pearly white pre-cum sitting pretty at the tip of his dick. “Suck my dick,” he settles on instead, straight and to the point. Sasuke’s capacity for conversation tended to tap out around this point, so it was best to be straightforward anyway.

Sasuke shuts his eyes and immediately moves forward, wrapping his hand around the base of Shikamaru’s cock like a strange adornment and taking the entire shaft into his mouth, the tip of it hitting the back of his mouth. He doesn’t gag, and as he continues to move in and out he keeps his eyes shut.

Shikamaru has had Sasuke countless times before but will never cease to marvel in the almost clinical way that he sucked cock. He doesn’t open his eyes which almost makes Shikamaru think that he had learned to suck dick blind, or at the very least that he navigated on feeling rather than vision. He wonders, distantly, if he eats Sakura’s pussy with his eyes closed too. He doesn’t when they’re all together, but he is sure that things traverse differently when they’re alone.

It’d be exquisite to watch, but some things are best when kept to themselves. He certainly knows the feelings; there are parts of his life that they’ll never know either.

Blood rushes to the tip of his dick as Sasuke sucks, sucks like an experienced whore, well-practiced and dirty but somehow not messy at all. His thumb presses at the tip, and he reaches up to suck it between his lips as he cleans Shikamaru’s precome off of it. His mouth reconnects with his dick again shortly after, swirling up the shaft and bobbing his head back and forth. Shikamaru decides to take some of the work off of his shoulders, looking at Sakura as he does so. He grabs a fistful of hair and  _ pulls _ but Sasuke doesn’t quit his task.

“Be  _ still,” _ Shikamaru hisses, and Sakura quits her writhing as well. He begins to fuck Sasuke’s mouth, then, hips stuttering forward. Sakura is leaking now, more than she had been before, and she most feel so  _ empty  _ and  _ wanting. _

He’s probably made her wait long enough, at this point. Giving Sakura pleasure was a game, a long con, and he had drawn it out long enough. But he’s just begun to feel the pulling behind his balls and the rush through his dick that means he’s about to come, and it would be remiss to deny Sasuke of that.

He fucks into him harder, spit dribbling down Sasuke’s face and his mouth swollen, the red of his lips almost orange in the candlelight. His eyes are unfocused, and Shikamaru often imagines that he is simply somewhere else. He always comes eventually though, and he always says thank you, after.

One last thrust that nearly has him hitting the hard back of Sasuke’s throat, and Shikamaru hastily pulls out before he comes, the white hot liquid grazing the edge of Sasuke’s lips before he finishes spurting over the floor, leaving haphazard puddles that reflect the moonlight shining through the window. Sasuke kneels there dumbly, waiting for orders, eyes still fixed on nothing, or possibly on Sakura.

Shikamaru tugs at his dick experimentally, finally turning around to face her, sweating and hard-faced, and oh-so-on edge.

“Clean this shit up,” Shikamaru gestures to the come on the floor absentmindedly, not bothering to turn around and watch. Somehow, the satisfaction of knowing that Sasuke is slowly licking each bit of it up with no complaint is just as good as the show he can give with his tongue. It can be uncomfortable for Shikamaru to watch such a cold, ruthless killer dip so deeply into subspace, knowing that with a snap of his sister’s fingers he could have Shikamaru on his back and bleeding out. But he knows that Sasuke needs to relinquish control, to be treated like an object and humiliated by his own doing, and Shikamaru is grateful to be the one to do it.

Even when Sakura is letting herself be dominated, there is a string of clarity there, running along the edges of her mind and of Shikamaru’s skin. He is sure that there is only one person who can truly make her fall under their hand, and he is currently so deep in another world that he will later have to be fished out carefully, guided along a string.

“Sakura,” he says, placing her chin in his hand and stroking it. “You promise to be good now, beautiful?”

An angry mumble comes from her mouth, and he is sure it runs along the lines of  _ don’t call me that! _

“Hey, hey,” he coos. “Listen to me, handsome,” he says, retreating back to his normal nickname for her. “You’ll be good.”

She fixes him with a stare, but doesn’t argue, and he finally let’s the shadows retreat, pulling back into his heels with a rapidness that he matches as he rushes forward to catch where she falls. He lays her down on the bed, gently, as this is the last gentle thing he’ll do to her tonight.

“Shikama–” she starts, but he gets a slap in before she can finish her sentence.

“You want to be gagged again? No? Then be a good girl and keep your mouth shut like your brother does.”

A glance behind him shows Sasuke still dutifully licking the floor, moving in an almost dreamlike trance, before sinking back down onto his knees from all fours and looking over to enjoy the show. Shika nods, an audience is always nice.

“That’s what I thought,” he continues. “You must be fucking aching for it down there, huh. Probably gaping open...been desperate all night, haven’t you?”

She doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t have to. She knows that her pussy is wet and that he can smell it from where he leans down, thumb absentmindedly massaging at her right nipple. She can’t help the noise that escapes her mouth when she looks past him to see Sasuke watching, mouth slightly open and tip of his dick shining.

“I don’t want you writhing,” Shikamaru says, more to himself than to her. Shadows shoot back out to bind her wrists and ankles, and she sits up with all of the weight in her abs to look at him. “Lay back down, or your mouth gets it too. You’ve been so disobedient tonight, Sakura.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get my dick.”

Her eyes slowly shut as realization of what he is going to do washes over her. Of course, this was all apart of the game she was playing, and Shikamaru knew it. He was a con artist, but she was a criminal and a whore, and he was just another puppet when she pulled the strings. The difference between him and others was that she allowed the illusion that he was moving of his own accord.

He leans down to the pile of his clothing on the floor and pulls his wakizashi from its sheath, the one with the decorative fuchi-kashira, the kashira bulbous and intricately carved, larger slightly than the rest of the hilt.

“If you can take this, I won’t punish you too harshly afterward.”

A whimper sounds, but it’s Sasuke, so he lets it pass.

“Your brother is such an obedient, needy little whore,” he says, sheathing the sword again and removing the sheath from the harness so that he can hold it from the blade side. “I know it runs in the family, so why don’t you tell me how much you want it?”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, that’s not very nice, handsome,” he smirks, probing at the slit between her pussy lips with the tip of the kashira. “I’d say that for that you don’t get any preparation, but it’s not like you need it, huh? Already fucking wet. Now ask politely.”

“Fuck – nnng,” she lets out as he shoves the entire length of the tsuka in, and he knows she is probably sparing a thought for ruining the delicate wrappings with the juice of her pussy, but no matter. He is the Torikage, after all. He can afford another.

The tsuka isn’t as long, or as round as his dick is, but there’s something special that she feels in the roughness of the wrappings, of the little carvings on the kashira, rubbing against her insides in a way that feels rough and dirty, which is how she likes it. This is part of her game. She will protest and protest and eventually she will give in and take her pleasure. He just has to get her there now.

He moves the tsuka in and out in earnest, the long-fingered grip of his left hand wrapped around the protruding bone of her right hip, digging in hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow. Sasuke will be upset when he comes down, undoubtedly, and so will she – neither of them like it when someone else claims ownership – but he has to relish the moments that he is in control.

“Oh!” She lets out a moan and throws her head back as her hips stutter forward. He presses the sword deeper into her, wild fantasies about turning the blade on her in his head. If only there were some way to do that without causing permanent damage – the sheet of blood that they would fuck on would be exquisite. Her, naked on a garment of blood, taking it good and dirty. He drives in until the fuchi catches and the sword will not go in any deeper. Her clit is glistening and bulbous, red and he  _ yearns _ to lick it, but she hasn’t done anything to deserve it yet.

Sakura’s eyes roll back as he digs a knee into her thigh, a knee into her side.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she lets out, little breathy things that contrast so starkly with the warrior that she is. She comes undone slowly, as if he were to unravel the same-kawa one strand at a time. He imagines the way the rough skin feels against her walls and how they must be aching for more, flickering uncontrollably.

He can’t take it. He grinds the heel of his palm into her clit and she  _ squirms, _ as much as she can while she’s still bound. She had been so undone that the one rough touch had been enough; he can see the way the muscles in her thigh tremble delicately while she bucks around the hilt to gather more and more inside of her  _ feeling _ it with every inch of twitching cunt. She screams as she does so, almost as if she is in agony, but she is not, she is not, her head is back in the throws of pleasure and the soft and sharp lines of her neck contrast in the firelight and he hears a growl come loose from the back of her throat as he pulls the wakizashi out and tosses it to the side where it lands with a clank. He leans up over her then, to lick a stripe up the side of her neck. He has already tested his luck with the bruises on her hip – a hickey is asking for trouble when the twins come back up.

He spares a thought for Sasuke as he turns over his shoulder, and sure enough, he has not moved, but a bit of come is still rolling down his cock and a small pool of it has settled on the floor. So he has gotten his fill. His eyes are unfocused; elsewhere. Hers are shut, and he thumbs over her lids, wanting to see that mismatched gaze and the way they are surely glazed over.

His own dick nudges at the bottom of his belly, hard and ready for another orgasm, but there will be time for that later. For now, he slumps over on his stomach, lets an arm settle over Sakura’s waist.

She hums thoughtfully, and he takes that, for now.


End file.
